Page 15 of His Holiday Fate

“Just do it, please.”

It’s my “please” that has him taking action. With a smirk, he places his hand in mine and we both gasp.

Everything clicks into place. My brain freezes, but it kicks out one word over and over: mate.

Dylan’s wide eyes meet mine and he breathes out, “Really?”

Swallowing roughly, I tighten my hand around his. “I guess so.”

He grins, eyes wet. In a small voice, he asks, “Are you mad it’s me?”

“What? No. Why would I be mad you’re my fated mate?”

“Because I’m like your ex.”

Exhaling, I lower our hands, but don’t let him go. “You’re not. You’re …” I trail off. It’s too much to explain and even though I’m a native New Yorker, I still get cold. “Can I come up to your place so we can talk more? I won’t try anything, I promise.”

Chapter 8

Dylan

I never would have guessed my Scrooge alpha was my fated mate. I should have known it was something since I wanted to be around him so much. I had to fight not to text him after we parted ways. It’s nice to know I wasn’t being all crazy and weird.

After unlocking my apartment door, I step inside and let him pass. “You can have a seat on the couch. Let me take your jacket.” He shucks his coat and I hang it on the rack along with my own and my scarf. “Want something to drink?”

“Winny’s if you have one.”

I grin and almost float to my fridge. Of course, I have some Winny’s. It’s my favorite. I grab one for myself as well. I take off the caps and sit beside him on the couch, handing him his. Our hands brush again and I have to suppress a shudder. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the thrill that goes through me.

Andrew takes a sip of Winny’s, humming as he swallows. “This really is good.”

I feel my cheeks flame. “Thank you. When me and Bryce decided to buy the bar, we both took bartending classes and got certified to serve alcohol. Bryce stopped there, but I kept going, becoming a master mixologist. I always wanted my own brand, ya know?” He nods and I tuck one of my legs under me. “When I figured out how to mix and bottle, I started making Winny’s. It took a while to get it right, but after three years, I got it. I came up with the blend you taste now. I sell to some of the local stores here. I’m not sure I’ll try to expand because that’s a lot of work and I’m very comfortable with how much I’m making and how well it’s doing.”

I realize I’m rambling when he stares at me. We’re quiet for a moment, then it happens. He smiles at me. A real one. Like a big, full-on smile that lights up his eyes and makes his cheeks pink. And man, he’s fucking beautiful. My mouth drops open as I stare at him in disbelief; I got a smile out of him without even trying. After days of cracking jokes and all my shenanigans and he chooses to smile at me because I can’t stop talking about my mixed drink?

I’ll take it.

He takes another sip of Wnny’s then sets the bottle on the table. “That’s amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever met a master mixologist before.” Andrew rubs his hands on his pants, then chuckles a little. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous. I didn’t…you know, expect anything to happen when we touched.”

“Why did you touch me?” He seemed like he was almost anticipating something happening.

“Rome, one of the alphas I came in the bar with? He told me I should. See, he met his fated mate and said he felt the same way about him that I told him I felt about you.”

“You felt something for me?” I ask, disbelieving.

Andrew’s cheeks turns an adorable shade of pink. “Yeah, I think.” I don’t take offense to that because he really does look unsure of what’s going on in his head right now. “It was a draw to you that I felt. Even when your cheeriness got on my nerves, I didn’t want to stay away from you.” He looks at me shyly. “That’s weird huh?”

I shake my head. “No. Because I felt the same. Initially, I wanted to see if you would help me with my booth.” Andrew gives me a deadpan look, making me giggle. “But then, when you were walking me home, I still wanted you to help, but I liked being around you. Even though you didn’t say much to me.”

“You tricked me.” He doesn’t sound upset about it. His voice is very matter of fact.

“Little bit,” I say, holding my thumb and index finger about half an inch apart.

Andrew sighs, sinking lower into the couch. “I’m glad you did, but I think I would have gone back to the bar to talk to you anyway.”

I nudge him with my foot. “You like me.”

For a moment, Andrew just stares at me, taking me in. “I do. Is that bad?”

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